


Honor for my Brothers

by LeilaSecretSmith



Series: Vennesetiid [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dovahkiin is so done with them, Gen, Legate Rikke is the best one there, Revised 2017, SERIOUSLY ITS NOT A TRADE MEETING, Season Unending, Tullius and Ulfric squabble like children, get it together guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaSecretSmith/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn has had more than enough of Tullius and Ulfric, especially when they truly begin to dishonor her dead brothers. Set during Season Unending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor for my Brothers

Alea Spellweaver, nineteen-year-old Breton Dragonborn and reluctant Arch-mage of the College of Winterhold, groaned under her breath and pressed her forehead to the cold stone table. Tullius and Ulfric were squabbling like children. _Worse than Onmund and Keira,_ she moaned to herself, thinking of her husband and adopted older sister. Her patience was rapidly beginning to wane, which was remarkable in and of itself considering her normally calm and even temper. From the chair next to hers, Legate Rikke cast her a sympathetic look.

Finally, Alea couldn't stand it anymore.

"ENOUGH!" she roared, leaping up from her chair, eyes flashing. Dust shook loose from the ceiling at the force of her shout. Both Ulfric and Tullius fell silent, shocked by the dragon-fire in her normally serene green eyes. She slammed her palm down on the table with a loud crack, frost spreading down the surface of the table in a wave as she transferred her anger into magic.

"FOOLS!" She brought her other hand down to punctuate the insult, doubling the coating of ice. Anyone who'd had their hands on the table rapidly withdrew them. The mage paused and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she reopened them, the anger had not abated, but instead turned colder and more dangerous.

"Fools, the both of you," she repeated, her voice a dragon-like growl. "Do you not understand—" her voice dropped to a low, dangerous timbre as she pushed up off the table to stand upright "—the nature of our situation?"

Her eyes flickered between Tullius and Ulfric as she spoke. "Do you not understand" –Once again, her voice rose in anger— "that this is bigger than any battle of egos you two ice-brains could possibly be involved in? The whole world in danger!" She bared her teeth, the shadows from the flickering fire making her normally soft appearance nothing short of terrifying. "Yet you two still sit here squabbling like children! Fools! Idiots!"

Both men looked affronted, but Alea wasn't anywhere near done.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Legate Rikke smirking into her tankard of mead.

"I almost died less than a week ago at the top of this very mountain you sit upon! I almost _died!_ A _female mage_ that has only seen _nineteen_ summers almost _died_ to save your _pathetic_ behinds!" She brought her fist down on the table again, the stone literally cracking under the force of her rage. "And yet here you sit, insulting me with your petty squabbles! I should end all of you here and now! I SHOULD LET ALDUIN FILL HIS STOMACH WITH YOUR SOULS, NOT THOSE OF THE SOLDIERS YOU DISHONOR HERE!"

She stopped abruptly, bowing her head and laying her other palm on the broken stone for support. Rikke saw what the others couldn't: a tear rolled down the Dragonborn's cheek, falling to the table and darkening the ice.

"It should be _you_ in Sovengard, not them."

Her voice came quiet but strong after a pregnant pause, filled with grief and anger. "My brothers are likely consumed now, just like Leila’s birth sister. And yet you seem to have forgotten that they died on both sides _for you_." Finally, she looked up, her eyes shining in the firelight, her voice filled with disgust.

"If you cannot strike this truce in the name of my sacrifice, and possibly my death, then I at least ask that you bow your pride for the sake of the men and women who died in service to their people." Another tear fell from her eye, but this time she let them see, almost as a challenge to their sincerity.

"I will have no part in this." The Dragonborn stood upright once more and removed her Arch-mage hood and circlet, placing both deliberately on the table. Her voice became quiet and husky, difficult to hear, but in some ways that made it all the more fearful. "When you have agreed to stop dishonoring those you claim to fight for, come find me. I shall be meditating in the main hall."

She left without a word.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FF.net under the same pen-name.


End file.
